


Mutually Assured Destruction

by OrtegaTrash (Malicei)



Series: Fallen Hero Fics [6]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Bondage, Capture, Choking, Cunnilingus, Domme, F/M, Female Masturbation, Hate Sex, Hero/Villain, Light BDSM, Sadomasochistic themes, Strangulation, Violent Desires, two doms fighting, unsafe bdsm practices because holy shit argent ask first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 19:38:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malicei/pseuds/OrtegaTrash
Summary: You don’t feel alive until you face death in the eye and in your bed. Her name is Angie, and you hate her enough to want to see her ruined underneath you. F/M, Argentstep.





	Mutually Assured Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> Name: Léon Bellandini | Puppet: Simba | Villain name: Pride  
> Daring/arrogant/fighter/lots of contacts/gang leader.

It will feel so good, you think.

It will feel so good when you finally gets a hold of her and grind her to the ground. You want her to suffer - with that indestructible body of hers you don’t even have to worry about breaking her too early. You can take your time. You can have fun with her.

Even now you can feel the way your snarl transforms your face, rips a growl from your lungs unprompted. Ever since you stole the flesh-regenerator out of her hands she’s been out for blood.

She’s always in your fucking way and you wouldn’t take it so personally except she’s made it personal now. How dare she. How very  _dare_  she mark you forever?

If you’d wanted to lay low like you used to, a giant ‘NOTICE ME’ scar over your cheek really. Would. Not. Be. Ideal. As it is, you just grit your teeth and bear with it - you actually want to stand out now. You would have liked to make that choice, though.

_Come get me!_  you taunt the world. You’re not going to hide anymore like a scared little mouse.

No. Now you are a lion roaring out a challenge to this cruel world - They will be the ones bowing before you. Now you will be king and all the world will know your name.

You’re going to be so strong you never need to hide again.

You can’t help but be bitter. Because she has everything you ever wanted and she doesn’t even _care._  She’s supposed to be part of a team and yet she treats them like trash, running off to play by herself and be a liability. How dare she take that spot that should have been yours, would have been yours if only things had been different and you weren’t a hunted man?

How  _dare_  she throw it all in your face?

The others are going to die because of her and it’ll be all her fault. She’s dangerous, too wild, too chaotic - she only cares about fighting, it’s all just a cute little game to her to get her inner violent urges out.

It’s not a game. You know that all too well and you’re going to teach her it’s not a game before something happens that can’t ever be undone. She gets off on it, you think.

It leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Bullies like her take advantage of their power to push people like Herald around…it would only be a matter of time before she did something that crossed the line. When she starts taking out her little anger issues on innocent civilians.

_Yes,_  you decide. V _iolent, untrainable dogs are considered menaces to society and at least humans have the capacity to understand and choose to be that way, unlike dogs. It would be best to put her down._

She’ll pay. She’ll pay for it all and you will take joy in finally seeing her get what she deserves. You’ll take everything that should have been yours away from her and you’ll make her watch. Rub her face in it, see if she starts caring once she’s realised everything she should be grateful for.

You despise her.

You want to crush her. Ruin her. See her squirm underneath you, beg for mercy, beg for  _more, more, more…_

Wait. What?

That. That wasn’t the plan.

_Focus. Focus!_  Just because that smirk taunted your dreams, made you want to slam her up against a wall, made you want to kiss her desperately until she shut up and left her in ruin…

You cover your head with your hands, groaning. “Scrap the plan.” you mutter to your team.

“Boss?”

You let a wicked smile grave your face. “I’ve got a better idea in mind…”

* * *

It takes all your willpower to keep from cackling as you watch Argent awaken. “Sleeping in?” you tease.

She freezes. You can sense the moment she takes in the situation and falls into combat ready mode instantly, seeing her own vulnerability reflected in your helmet. “YOU!”

“Me.” You toy idly with the Rat King’s container, deliberately ignoring her. I wonder if they’d like a little mechanical body? Would that be practical?

“What have you  _done_  to me?!”

“ _Hello to you too,_  Argent.” Wagging a finger at her, you give a mocking smile. “Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“You’re one to talk about manners! You’ve got me tied up!” she snarls, pulling at her restraints. “Let me go!”

Your entire plan counts on those restraints holding, you reeeeally don’t want to stick around if she gets loose and starts trying to trash your warehouse - you couldn’t risk her figuring out clues in your actual lair. Dr Mortum had assured you of the  strength of the cuffs but you don’t know what secrets Argent has up her sleeves.

Besides. You spent a lot of good money on that red carpet in your room, okay? You could get it dry-cleaned easily but it’d still be ruined in your mind. Desecrated by her filthy blood. Your lair is supposed to be safe and pure and free of any bad memories.

“Now, now, dear,” you purr, knowing your smile doesn’t meet your eyes. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You’re a guest here, it’s very rude to go out and try to break the furniture.”

“Funny sort of hospitality,” she manages, with a pointed glare. “What the hell do you want with me?”

You let your smile become thin, a bit more condescending and brittle. “Why, I only wanted to have a little talk.”

“God, you’re such an asshole.”

It’s almost cute, how angry she is at you. “I meant it,” you breathe into in her ear. “And I expect. You. To. Listen.”

Argent looks tense- taking in all the blocked exits and no way out. She knows it too - hides it well, but there’s only so much you can hide to a sufficiently skilled telepath such as yourself. There’s a little something in her that’s afraid. Wary.

Good. It means she respects you. She finally realises just how precocious her position is.

But that’s…that’s not all there is, it seems. Lurking underneath all that is…arousal? Excitement?

What.

_Oh, that IS interesting._

“I’m not a monster,” you begin. “You have only to listen to what I have to say and I’ll let you go.” For now, at least. As much as you’d like to rip her guts out and strangle her with them, your current plans are only to keep her from interfering and you don’t want to deal with the fallout of downright killing her right now.

She snorts. “Do you think I’m stupid?” she bites out. “Why should I trust you to follow your word?”

A snap of your fingers. Rosie wheels in the flesh regenerator behind its bulletproof glass cabinet, taunting her right in front of her face.

Argent goes wild, giving a shriek as she tries to lunge for it. “YOU!”

“Me.” You chuckle, taking a perverse sort of joy in her desperation. “I noticed you were a little…eager…to get a hold of this.”

“YOU ASSHOLE!” she screams, trying to claw her nails into the table. True to Mortum’s word, it doesn’t even scratch. “WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, YOU’LL PAY FOR TAKING THAT AWAY FROM ME!”

“Inside voices,” you admonish, and it feels so good to hear her shriek in frustration. “Now, now, if you’ve settled down from your little tantrum-”

“I’LL GIVE YOU A FUCKING TANTRUM!”

“-we can talk about this like normal, civilised people.” you finish. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted. I am not a cruel man-”

“-Wow, at least give me  _something_  believable.” A tense snort of disbelief and anger. She’s a live wire just waiting to unleash everything on the next person who touches her.

Okay, rude. She’s ruining your vibe here, doesn’t she have any sense of appreciation for proper drama and theatre? You’d made sure to rearrange the stage lights so you looked suitably dramatic lit up from below, face cast in shadow.

Leaning forward, you thrust your arm forward and drag her in by the collar of her shirt, the restrains pressing deeply into her chest. “Really. No appreciation for the arts. No appreciation for all this effort I went into for you?”

You’re actually offended - you’d made sure to practice your monologues in the mirror and studied all the best villains in musical theatre just to polish up your sense of dramatic timing and appropriately eye-catching cape twirl.

“None at all.” she sneers, though you feel a little sense of curiosity from her.  You haven’t actually done anything but talk at her yet and she’s wondering what exactly you have planned with the regeneration device.

“Pity. The creative arts are so unappreciated these days.”

“You talk too much.  _Get to the point, asshole._ ”

So  _impatient._ You give her an indulgent smile, eyes hard. “The point is that you have been a great nuisance to my plans and I’m really getting sick and tired of the way you’re stalking me. One would almost think you have a crush.” you tease, because it IS funny to you how relentlessly she’s been going after you.

Argent…

Argent actually gives a brittle smile at that, a challenging look on her face as she tilts her head up in defiance. “You’re the only one who actually gives me a run for my money,” she growls. “I’ve got to respect that, even if you are a complete bastard.”

“I’m flattered.”

Loosening up a bit, Argent still looks tense but no longer ready to start biting and clawing her way out of her restraints the first chance she got.

You take this opportunity to stroll over to the flesh regenerator, mindful of the hard eyes that follow you. “I’m not going to apologise for taking this, by the way, if you were curious-”

“I should have known this was too good to be true, what, you just wanted to taunt me?-”

You stare her down. “No.” you admit quietly, and she actually stops and listens because you’ve never let up on your loud and arrogant villain persona in front of her before. “Rosie, please leave us for a moment.”

“Gotcha, boss.”

Is it a persona anymore? You don’t know. Your head hurts. But she will be easier to deal with if she knows you’ve got a stake in this as well, and maybe that’s why you peel your glove off and pull up your sleeve. You’re not- you’re not ashamed, no matter how much your heart is beating a thousand miles an hour. You…you refuse to be ashamed.

This is what you are. If she recoils, if she starts treating you as less than a person…

Well. You can always go back to the original plan.

“What-” she’s taken genuinely off guard, staring unashamedly as you see her mind connecting the dots. “You…you are not blue?”

“I’m not.” your mouth is a thin line and because you are dumb, because you hate thinking about this, you hate talking about this, because you just want to move on, you just say “Do you understand why I had to take it for myself now?”

She frowns at that before giving a stiff, curt nod. “I’m…not exactly happy with it.” she admits. “But I can see why you wanted it as well.” And, because she still doesn’t quite trust you - even if you have managed to diffuse her anger, at least for now - she quickly adds: “But that’s not going to stop me from getting my hands on it.”

She wants it. She  _needs_  it, the second-hand pain resounding through your mind and you…

You almost feel sorry for her and you absolutely resent yourself for it. Not that that will change any of your plans.

“I want to come to an agreement.” you state, trying to ignore all these feelings that have suddenly washed over you. Feelings making you weak. It was so much easier to despise her completely when she wasn’t a person, a person with her own feelings and fears and pains.

She’s listening. Her jaw is grit, she’s uncomfortable feeling so exposed and raw and vulnerable constrained like this…

But she’s willing to listen. Some sort of morbid curiosity in her wants to know what you’re up to.

Good. You don’t need her to like you. You just need her to tolerate you for now. That’s why you look her evenly in the eye, willing her to play nice for now. That’s why you call Rosie back in to wheel the regenerator away and let your hand hover over a conspicuous red button.

“I’m going to take a risk here,” you admit. “I’m going to release you from the restraints now, and we can talk like nice rational people. And if…and if you’re not happy with the terms, we will both walk away freely. No questions asked.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re…seriously going to let me go? Just like that.”

“Just like that.” you frown at her in mock affront. “I am a gentleman, after all.”

“Don’t give me that 'charming asshole’ bullshit.” she rolls her eyes at you. “Fine. Release me then. If you’re really genuine, we can talk.”

* * *

She doesn’t quite know what to make of you. She doesn’t know whether she hates you or respects you. Maybe both. Most likely, both.

She also wants you, wants you so much it’s overwhelming, her thoughts stripping you down and wanting so much it’s distracting, you can hardly keep a coherent sentence going before her want, her need slams into you.

But you keep to your word and when you both leave with wary eyes and a tentative truce, you can’t stop thinking about the passion in her face. The anger and desire for a life you saw in her face. It makes you want to hate her, because she is so much like you that you can redirect any of your own, hidden self-hatred onto her, because you see your own flaws in her and hate her for them.

It makes you want her. Because she understands, more than anyone. Because you can destroy her and pretend you’re destroying everything you hate about yourself. Because you despise her and accordingly, want her more desperately than anything you’ve ever wanted before.

Maybe that’s why you end up telling her, showing her who you really are. She deserves to know who it is that will be her ruin. She deserves to be able to look her death in the eye and watch death smile at her.

Of course she gets angry. Of course you taunt her, offer up your throat to choke out if she wanted to finish off what she started back at the ranger’s headquarters that one time. Just like back then, you just smile and let her, you just smile and wheeze through your laughter.

It’s only when you stare death in the eye that you feel so damn alive, that you’re so very conscious of the blood pumping through your head, of the spots in your visions and the bruises in the shape of fingers around your neck.

And then she stops. Tells you, “You’re such an asshole,” and kisses you so gently you wonder if this is the very same person who just tried to choke you out mere seconds before.

“And you’re fucked up,” you croak out with a broken smile. “I guess that makes us a real pair, huh?”

A cruel smile. It’s so beautifully perfect for someone like her. It suits her, it suits the both of you, because you are both so fucked up that you take pleasure in this.

It doesn’t stop you from teasing her, though. “Next time, we do safe words.” you mutter, playfully.

She snorts. “And where exactly were they when you tied me up and restrained me without even buying me dinner first?” she asks, though you can see she approves.

Clutching a hand to your chest in mock affront, you twirl a strand of her hair around your finger in amusement. Oh, but you could actually cut off your circulation like that… “Last time was merely business. All part of the job for being a villain.” you admit, with more dramatic apology in your tone than you would have liked.

“Oh? And what do you call this then?”

You let a finger run down her neck, feeling all the vulnerable veins and arteries moving underneath. You’re all the more aware of them with the way your own throat aches in comparison.

It hurts so good.

“This,” you whisper to her. “Is  _pleasure._ ” Your voice is harsh, broken, raw. Just like you.

She doesn’t quite shiver. “Is that so?” she murmurs. “Then show me. Show me pleasure.”

You smile.

* * *

Oh, daaaamn.

She’s silver  _everywhere._

Will- will being inside her be like being trapped inside a vice? You swallow, a little nervous. A lot excited.

You never got anywhere without taking risks. Maybe this is a terrible idea, but you don’t care.

Right now her legs are spread and glistening silver as she reaches down to stroke herself. Pearly white collecting on her fingers, you watch, absolutely mesmerised. Well aware of your gaze on her, she very deliberately sticks her finger in her mouth and gives a long, tantalising lick.

“Like what you see?” she smirks.

Of course you do. “What do you think,  _Angie_?”

Just for that, she breaks off what she’s doing to scowl and drag you by the collar to her face. It’s not like you’re going resist when she’s being like this. “Don’t get cute with me.”

“Are you saying I’m not cute? Why, Angie, I’m positively wounded-”

Roughly, she gives you a sharp shove back and neatly traps your back underneath her legs in a single fluid movement, silver thighs moving in a flash and pressing in on your face. You give a sharp inhale, for once you’re very, very happy to be trapped.

“Less talking, more action.” she growls. You’re happy to oblige.

You devour her, gently, teasing - because you’ve always been contrary, because it infuriates her when you torment her so lovingly and slowly, making sure to explore every nook and cranny. You want to take your time here, enjoy the meal and if the side effect is pissing her off and making her whine for  _more, more, god just stop teasing me like this!_

Well.

That’s just a bonus, isn’t it.

* * *

“I’m going to end you one day.” you whisper in her ear.

“I look forward to seeing you try.” she smirks before turning towards you and making a move as if to kiss you.

You let her, curious as what she plans to do. Right now she’s just too distracted by her attraction to actually do you any proper damage.

Argent’s lips are softer than you would expect for being covered in metal but she kisses roughly enough that you’re afraid it’s going to bruise. It’s intoxicating, taking out all your rage and frustration towards her and kissing her just as roughly back, grabbing her hair in one hand and yanking her head back to make her gasp.

Such defiant eyes, pupils dilated with attraction and yet so willing to wrestle for dominance. Two predators finding a worthy adversary in each other.

She takes advantage of your distraction and bites straight through your lip.

Shit! You shouldn’t have let your guard down even for a moment.

“The fuck!” you curse, wiping your mouth. “What was that for?”

Argent actually dares to smirk at you. “That,” she hisses, “is for getting in my head. For being a jerk. For making me want you.”

You narrow your eyes. Somehow you always end up fighting and kissing with her. It’s never just one or the other. God, it’s like wrestling in bed with a wild tiger. You never know if you’re going to get bitten and you end aching, sore and exhausted before you both stretch out languidly covered in sweat.

A temporary truce before you’re at each other’s throats again.

It’s hot is what it is.

* * *

She leaves you in the cover of night, both of you rumpled messes.  You kiss her hand like a proper gentleman and though she acts like she thinks you’re the most arrogant jerk she’s ever met, you can tell she’s secretly charmed by it.

“Until next time, my lady.” you smirk at the look on her face gives you for that.

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” Argent huffs. “Also, you suck in bed.”  _What…._ Oh. She’s  _teasing_  you.

The very  _nerve_  of her. You can’t help but to respect someone daring enough to challenge you like this. “You want to come back and say that to my face, Argent?!”

“Inviting me back already?” Oh this is bad. She’s actually really into this.

You’re actually really into this.

Shit.

No, this could work. This could work to the benefit of both of you. You hadn’t expected this to go as far as it did, but now it has…

You both know this won’t lead to anything real but maybe you could both size the other up and let off a little frustration. “Well, I can’t exactly let that remark go, can I? I do have my pride.” you mention innocently. “I didn’t name myself Pride because of my rampant bisexuality, you know.”

That elicits an actual groan from her. “You’re as bad as Ortega.”

“I learnt from the best.”

She studies you for a moment. Apparently you pass some sort of internal test of hers because she just gives a curt nod and snort. “You know where to find me.”

That you do. “You won’t say a word to Ortega or the others, I’m sure?”

“I won’t.” she tells you and her thoughts tell you she’s actually being genuine in this. She doesn’t want Ortega to spoil her fun, she wants to take you down herself.

…She wants to hold you down and take you in many different ways herself.

_Oh, this is going to be fun._

“Then I look forward to it.”


End file.
